


thank you

by seiseijoh



Series: i hate you (i've got you) [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad foreplay, Biting, Finger Sucking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Painful Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex, aborted declaration of love, hanamaki is the king of terrible decisions, not yet, they're both really in love but they're not gonna admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiseijoh/pseuds/seiseijoh
Summary: “I really think you liked it,” he says in that low, rumbling voice that makes Hanamaki’s body tilt, hips forward into Matsukawa’s and back pressing harder against the wall he’s trapped against. “And anyway, basically no one comes through here. No one is gonna see us.”Hanamaki wants to come back at him, remind him that just because this particular building is rarely used, and the stairwell even less so, doesn’t mean it’s abandoned. It’s unlikely, sure, but not impossible that someone will decide to take the stairs and find them fucking on the third-floor landing.But for some reason, the words die on Matsukawa’s tongue.sequel to kiss me
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Series: i hate you (i've got you) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870471
Comments: 20
Kudos: 162
Collections: expressions of love





	thank you

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm back with more filth
> 
> takes place a few days after kiss me, and once i've edited it, the next one is the library one that leads directly into pretty boy
> 
> beta? i don't know her

Hanamaki has started to wonder if he’s just exceptionally prone to making bad decisions.

He’s certainly made a lot of them. Deciding to study laboriously so he was towards the top of his class, graduating with some of the best test scores of his year group, moving hours away to Tokyo for university, befriending Iwaizumi Hajime in his first week and subsequently being invited to the first big party of the school year.

Normally, these would be considered good decisions. Or at least halfway decent. But they’re definitely bad decisions, because they’ve all led to his worst – Matsukawa Issei. Matsukawa Issei has been the bane of Hanamaki’s existence since he’d approached him at said party with a shit pick up line and an offer to hook up. Hanamaki had said yes, Matsukawa had asked if he’d wanted to make it a noncommittal thing, Hanamaki had said yes, because he’s an absolute moron, and now here he is, being sweet-talked and groped in a campus stairwell because Matsukawa has come down with a bad case of horny and doesn’t know how to deal with it like a normal person.

“You’ve already pulled this shit,” Hanamaki says as Matsukawa’s hands slide under his shirt and over his sides. “Literally three days ago in Oikawa’s fucking kitchen. I’m not gonna have sex with you in public again.”

“First of all, we did not have sex in Oikawa’s kitchen,” Matsukawa says which, considering he’s currently trying to suck a hickey the size of North America at the base of Hanamaki’s neck, is an achievement. “Secondly, you wanted to fuck in the bathroom, like that’s any less private. Thirdly, you liked it.”

“I did not,” Hanamaki retorts, but he cups one hand around the back of Matsukawa’s head, fingers curling in his hair, while the other grabs a fistful of his hoodie near his hip. “And maybe you didn’t stick your dick in me, but we definitely had sex in that kitchen.”

Matsukawa nips at his skin, and Hanamaki tightens his hold on his hair. He can feel the smirk against his neck as Matsukawa’s lips trail upwards, laying kisses under his ear.

“I really think you liked it,” he says in that low, rumbling voice that makes Hanamaki’s body tilt, hips forward into Matsukawa’s and back pressing harder against the wall he’s trapped against. “And anyway, basically no one comes through here. No one is gonna see us.”

Hanamaki wants to come back at him, remind him that just because this particular building is rarely used, and the stairwell even less so, doesn’t mean it’s abandoned. It’s unlikely, sure, but not impossible that someone will decide to take the stairs and find them fucking on the third-floor landing.

But for some reason, the words die on Matsukawa’s tongue.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Hanamaki warns when he breaks the kiss.

Matsukawa snorts. “The idea that you could regret having sex with me hurts my feelings.”

“Yeah, well, if we get caught, I’m gonna hurt a lot more than your feelings.”

Matsukawa doesn’t have an answer to that – or rather, he doesn’t have a verbal answer. Instead, he kisses Hanamaki again, hands warm and rough on his stomach. Hanamaki stutters through a breath and tugs Matsukawa closer.

Other than the fact they should be studying for their upcoming exams, which is something they’ve both been slacking on for a while now, they technically have all the time in the world – they don’t have any more classes for the day and neither of them have work. All the more reason Hanamaki had figured getting to someone’s apartment was the proper solution to Matsukawa’s problem. Most important was the privacy, but there was also a variety of furniture, floors, and walls to fuck on if Matsukawa felt like a bed was too vanilla. But despite the hours of relative freedom ahead of them, and as much as he is _never_ going to admit that _maybe_ he kind of likes the lack of privacy, Hanamaki knows that the less time spent in the stairwell, the better. So he slips his hand from Matsukawa’s hair and blindly unbuckles the other’s belt to free his straining problem from his jeans.

“Turn around,” Matsukawa says, and then gives him absolutely no time to even comprehend the order before grabbing him by the hips and doing it for him.

The sudden movement, the shove against the wall, knocks the air out of Hanamaki. The exhale is sharp, and the inhale slow – slowed further by Matsukawa jamming three of his fingers into his mouth.

Hanamaki chokes for a second, but they aren’t pushing deep enough to trigger his gag reflex. So once he can breathe again, he relaxes, leaning his head back onto Matsukawa’s shoulder. With the way he’s pressed up against the wall, there’s a nice – but not perfect – pressure on his lower half, as well as a promising heat and hardness against his ass. Matsukawa drives his hips forward, grinding Hanamaki against the wall, and it’s not what he wants, but he won’t lie, it’s pretty fucking nice.

He lets himself enjoy the rocking of Matsukawa’s hips, slow but forceful, and focuses on the fingers pressing down on his tongue. He drops his jaw, tips his head back as far as he can, and reaches a hand back to tangle his fingers in the other’s hair.

Matsukawa curses, breath stuttering before he sinks his teeth into the offered neck, and a thrill runs down Hanamaki’s spine. When he’s not running his mouth, Matsukawa is usually fairly quiet during sex. But it’s those little noises, the gasps and groans and cries, that Hanamaki loves – loves because Matsukawa doesn’t give them easily, and every sound is a victory.

“Everything you’ve got, pretty boy,” Matsukawa rasps.

Hanamaki obliges, but reservations are starting to creep in. He soaks Matsukawa’s fingers, tongue working over and between them, groaning when he’s pulled away from the wall long enough to get his jeans and boxers down around his thighs. Finally, Matsukawa removes his fingers, and Hanamaki coughs.

“You’ve got lube, right?” he asks. “Because there is not a chance in hell that you’re fucking me without it.”

“Yeah, just not a lot.” Matsukawa says, sounding distracted. “Enough to get my dick in you.”

Hanamaki snorts. “What a romantic – _fuck_!”

Matsukawa obviously has an _incredibly_ bad case of horny, because that’s the only reason Hanamaki can think of for why he decided a finger in the ass without any warning was a good idea. His hips jerk, more from surprise than pain, and he slams both hands to the wall for support. Matsukawa mutters an absent-minded apology into the bunched fabric of his shirt.

“I am never letting you talk me into this kind of shit again,” Hanamaki says.

Matsukawa wastes no time, fingering him roughly. He kisses and noses at the back of Hanamaki’s neck, but it doesn’t ease the burn of a second finger being forced in when he’s definitely not ready for it. Hanamaki winces and instinctively tries to pull away.

“ _Ah_ – fuck, Issei… you could at least – _ah!_ ” He cuts off mid-sentence when Matsukawa starts to scissor – there is nowhere near enough spit to make this comfortable. “At least make this fun for me too.”

“It’s gonna feel good, I promise,” Matsukawa soothes, squeezing his hip. “I’m sorry. I promise, once I’m in, it’s gonna be so good.”

“Fuck…”

Hanamaki leans forward, pressing his head to the wall, and Matsukawa follows, his body draped warm and strong over his back. As long as he doesn’t try for a third just yet, then everything should be okay – Hanamaki bites his lip, but his body starts to relax, small curls of pleasure starting to snake up his spine with every movement of Matsukawa’s fingers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. “Fuck, I hate you so much.”

Matsukawa huffs out a laugh. Right as he does, he twists his hand and crooks his fingers, expertly locating his prostate, and Hanamaki’s hips stutter as he gasps.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.”

Matsukawa rubs again, and when he edges in a third finger immediately after, Hanamaki isn’t really thinking about it. It’s obvious his priority is getting his dick in, but Hanamaki appreciates that he’s at least making an attempt, even if it is rushed and not his best. He pushes back onto his hand and it still hurts, but it’s a lot less painful than before and regardless, he’s willing to put it aside if Matsukawa keeps circling his fingers _right there_.

“You,” Hanamaki groans, “owe me _so_ much fucking foreplay.”

Matsukawa laughs, and nips at the back of his neck. “Whatever you say, princess. I will foreplay you to death if you like.”

He runs his other hand under Hanamaki’s shirt and pinches a nipple. When Hanamaki jumps, Matsukawa sinks his teeth into his shoulder. He keeps his mouth near the bite when he releases, his breath hot on the damp patch he’s made.

“Can I fuck you now? You good?”

“ _Ha_ … yeah, go on.”

Matsukawa withdraws his hand, leaving Hanamaki’s hips rocking back on nothing. Hanamaki can’t see him but judging how quickly it sounds like he’s fumbling for his wallet, he can imagine his hands shaking, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Are _you_ okay?” Hanamaki asks, punctuated by the tear of a condom packet.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been this horny sober.” There’s the slick sound of lube, and Hanamaki shivers involuntarily.

“I don’t… I don’t know, you just…” His tone changes suddenly as he stammers, frustration grinding down his words. “I couldn’t stop thinking about… about you, all class. I don’t know, I just really need to fuck you; can I fuck you?”

“Aw, you think about me?” Hanamaki jokes, pretending the coarse admission doesn’t just add fuel to the growing fire in his belly.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“Wait.”

Hanamaki pushes off the wall and twists until his back is pressed up against it and he’s facing Matsukawa again. For a second, he has to pause. The desperation is clear in Matsukawa’s eyes, even when he tries to cover it with annoyed impatience, and Hanamaki’s heart skips a beat. Then he blinks, mentally shaking himself off, and wraps his arms around the other’s shoulders.

“Pick me up,” he says. “If you’re going to fuck me here, you can work for it.”

He expects a jibe in return, but Matsukawa doesn’t hesitate to grab him by the thighs and try to lift him. His first attempt fails – Hanamaki’s jeans are still in the way, and they both stumble. He growls and yanks them down further, and the sound goes _straight_ to Hanamaki’s dick. He gasps, but Matsukawa doesn’t even seem to notice, too preoccupied with helping him free his ankles from the constraints of the fabric. As soon as they’re off, Matsukawa kicks the offending clothes away and hauls Hanamaki up bodily, slamming him against the wall and knocking the air from him again, fingers digging into his thighs painfully. Hanamaki barely has the time to get his legs around him before Matsukawa drives into him, one quick move sinking him to the hilt.

“ _Fuck_!” Hanamaki curls, clinging to him, foreheads touching, as tears prick at his eyes. It’s going to be good, he knows that, especially now that there’s enough lube and his dick is pressed between their bodies with some delightful friction, but _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel like he’s just been split in half.

Matsukawa shifts his weight like he’s going to pull out, and a spike of panic flares. He’s not ready; he’s nowhere near ready. Hanamaki claws at his back, nails blunted by the hoodie, and gasps, “Stop, Issei, stop, wait.”

He feels the groan in his chest. But Matsukawa doesn’t move – his legs are shaking, and his stuttered breaths fan over Hanamaki’s face as he pants with the effort, but he doesn’t move.

“Hiro, please,” he begs as he squeezes his thighs.

“Issei,” Hanamaki struggles to speak, the fear sharp between his ribs. “If you – if you move – fuck, please, just don’t – not yet –”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry,” Matsukawa rushes to reassure him. “I’ve got you. I’m not moving.”

“I swear, if you move, I – I’ll never have sex with you again –”

“You’re okay, just relax.”

Hanamaki heaves in a deep breath, and the panic starts to subside. Matsukawa presses kisses wherever he can – cheeks, nose, jaw, before biting and sucking on his bottom lip. Hanamaki rolls his hips slowly, earning a ragged groan from Matsukawa.

“Take your time, I’ve got you,” he mumbles into his mouth, words coming shaky and fast. “I’m not gonna move ‘til you let me, fuck, you feel so good, it’s gonna feel so good, thank you, thank you, you’ve been so good, so patient, thank you, pretty boy, princess, Hiro, I love y – oh, _fuck_.” The curse is exhaled like a punch to the gut, a hint of panic in his voice.

Hanamaki fists a hand in Matsukawa’s hair, hard. It’s better now; he doesn’t feel like he’s going to break apart the second Matsukawa moves. He locks his ankles behind the other’s back and tightens his grip – Matsukawa whines, twitches inside him, and Hanamaki bites his lip.

“You’re good,” he says.

“Gentle?” Matsukawa asks, his voice tight like the idea physically pains him. But he’ll do it – Hanamaki knows he’ll do it if he asks, even though it sounds like it’s the last thing on Earth that he wants.

Hanamaki doesn’t ask. He laughs, “Go wild.”

“Fuck, thank you, thank you.” The words fall fast, tripping over themselves. He might say something else but if he does, Hanamaki doesn’t hear it, because it’s much too difficult to focus on words when your guts are being aggressively rearranged.

He’s pretty sure they can hear him on the other side of campus. Matsukawa is fairly quiet again, just the occasional grunt, and the slap of skin is loud in the echoing stairwell, but Hanamaki can’t keep his mouth shut, chanting _fuck, yes, Issei, fuck, ah, fuck me, fuck me Issei, Issei_. He’s of half a mind to touch himself, but there isn’t really the space, so he just clings and bites down hard into Matsukawa’s shoulder to anchor himself, his cries muffled but not stopped.

Matsukawa Issei is without a doubt his worst, most awful, most perfect bad decision.

His orgasm is just starting to creep up on him when Matsukawa fucks into him somehow even harder, slow and savage snaps of his hips as he chases his own release. Hanamaki feels the rumble in his chest that means he’s saying something, and he assumes it’s a curse. He throws his head back, smacking into the wall, but the pain is the last thing on his mind – Matsukawa immediately latches onto the base of his throat, teeth sharp and scraping.

“Issei…” Hanamaki pleads, high and needy.

When Matsukawa comes, he digs his nails into Hanamaki’s thighs, and definitely curses. Hanamaki moans, the sound tapering out into a distressed whine when Matsukawa slows his thrusts even further. The intensity starts to fade as well, until Matsukawa is just rocking his hips, deliberate and unhurried.

Hanamaki makes a vague mental note to spend some time worshipping Matsukawa’s legs, because he has no idea how he’s still holding him up and keeping him pinned against the wall. Matsukawa’s strong, but he can’t be that strong – but just as the notion crosses his mind, Matsukawa lets go of one thigh to yank the hem of Hanamaki’s shirt up and press it to his lips. It takes a second for him to understand what’s being asked of him, but then he takes it between his teeth, which leaves Matsukawa free to take hold of his dick. It’s the hand he slicked himself up with and while most of the lube has transferred by now, there’s enough left to make the touch not uncomfortable.

“Come for me,” Matsukawa coaxes him, voice low and rumbling. “You look so good, pretty boy, so fucking good, come for me.”

It’s not as quick as that – another minute of Matsukawa mumbling nonsense, hips moving erratically, and finally Hanamaki comes with a near-sob of his name.

Matsukawa slows to a complete stop, and then neither of them move – Hanamaki expects to be put down, but he isn’t. Instead, Matsukawa keeps him up against the wall with both hands, panting heavily. It’s only when they’re both breathing somewhat normally again that he asks, “You okay?”

Hanamaki just nods. Carefully, Matsukawa pulls out and lowers him back to the ground; Hanamaki leans back against the wall for support, because he’s not entirely certain his legs can take his full bodyweight just yet. Matsukawa ties off the condom and tosses it carelessly over towards the corner, then tucks himself back into his jeans and pulls off his now-come-stained hoodie. Without a word, he uses it to clean them both up and when he’s done, he gently eases free the shirt that Hanamaki hadn’t even realised he was still holding between his teeth. Finally, he retrieves Hanamaki’s jeans and boxers from where they were kicked halfway down the stairs and waits quietly for him to get dressed.

“So like I said,” Hanamaki quips, his laugh a little weak, “you owe me a hell of a lot of foreplay now. When are you gonna pay up?”

Matsukawa regards him for a moment. And then, in a rush, he pushes Hanamaki back against the wall, hand behind his head to cushion it, and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle, almost affectionate; a complete 180 from not five minutes before and it makes Hanamaki’s head spin. His fingers twist in Matsukawa’s shirt; the hand behind his head drifts down to cup his face, while the other is warm against the small of his back.

Matsukawa murmurs into his mouth, “Thank you.”

“You said that a lot.”

“You didn’t have to let me do that.”

“Yeah, well,” Hanamaki says as a blush sets over his cheeks, “I did. It’s not a big deal.”

Matsukawa kisses him again. Hanamaki’s stomach flips, and he’s light-headed when they come up for air.

“I’ll pay you back tonight,” he says, “if you’re up for it.”

“You really do have it bad. You literally just debased me in a campus stairwell because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you’re already thinking about more?” Hanamaki laughs. “Buy me dinner and I’ll think about it.”

Matsukawa smirks, but it’s softer than usual. “Whatever you say, princess.”

(Hanamaki is more than a little embarrassed when they exit the stairwell to a janitor who glares irritably at them, but it’s all forgotten by the time his third orgasm washes over him that night.)

**Author's Note:**

> don't litter, be nice to janitors and clean up after yourself k they deserve better than that


End file.
